


Nightmare

by I_Am_Bella_Donna



Series: Losing Her Shadow [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Adam Taurus, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Volume 7 Chapter 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Bella_Donna/pseuds/I_Am_Bella_Donna
Summary: "They’ve promised that dreams can come true—but forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too."—Oscar WildeAdam is dead, but the trauma he inflicted on Blake is far from healed.Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or any of its characters.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna & Lie Ren
Series: Losing Her Shadow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793578
Comments: 16
Kudos: 22





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Story Theme Song: The Devil Within by Digital Daggers
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS: ACCIDENTAL SELF-HARM, ANXIETY ATTACKS, IMPLIED/REFERENCED SELF-HARM, MURDER MENTIONED, NIGHTMARES, VOMITING

Invisible icicles were hanging in the air.

Blake gave a blank stare to the tea kettle before her, watching as the pale tendrils of steam rose and curled in the cold, taking every trace of their warmth with them as they disappeared. Heat radiated faintly from the warm metal container, and although it probably wasn’t the best idea to lean so close to the stove, it was the only warm thing in the whole room—even if it did make her skin feel like it was _burning_ —

Wait, why did it feel like someone was rubbing her skin with sandpaper?

And she was still so _cold_ ….

A soft whistle pierced the air, and Blake winced, the tips of her cat ears curling downward as her attention snapped back to the kettle. Steam was shooting out of the spout, a steady jet so sharp and rapid, Blake knew that if she attempted to touch it, it would easily slice into her skin like a long, sharp _knife—_

Wait—the kettle was still whistling.

With a small shake of her head, she pushed herself off the counter, stomach churning and head spinning as she turned off the stove and poured the water into a small mug, hands trembling all the while. The boiling water sloshed against the sides of the container, probably hot enough to fry her already burning skin to a crisp—

As if on cue, some of the boiling water splashed onto the fingers she’d been using to steady the cup. With a loud hiss, she yanked her hand to her chest and let the kettle clatter against the counter. 

_Fucking bitch,_ a familiar voice growled in the back of her mind as her fingers itched for her lighter. _Can’t even make tea right. Can’t fucking do_ anything _right._

Biting back a whimper, Blake released her wrist, hesitantly grabbing the somehow still-full kettle and pouring the remainder of the water. Ignoring the burning sensation on most of her skin and the sharp pain in her left hand, she reached for a teabag and brought the mug over to the common room table.

_Breath in, breath out._

_It’s not something worth thinking about._

_Don’t go back_ there _._

With each breath, she clenched and unclenched her fists, allowing her long nails to press against the tender skin of her palms. Using the pain to ground her as she forced all thoughts of _that night_ out of her head.

_Atlas. I am in_ Atlas _. The borders are closed here._

_He is dead, and even if he wasn’t, he would have no way to enter the kingdom._

_I am_ safe _._

Once her breathing had slowed to a relatively even pace, Blake removed the teabag. Eyelids drooping slightly, she carefully lifted the mug to her lips and took a small sip, hissing in pain as the liquid scalded her tongue and lips but forcing herself to keep drinking nonetheless. She was a _huntress_ . What did it say about her if she was so goddamn _weak_ that she couldn’t even deal with a hot cup of tea?

At this thought, she gave a muted growl and chugged half of the mug’s contents, the tea burning a path down her esophagus as she slammed the mug down precariously close to the edge of the table. She regretted everything a moment later, however, when her throat refused to stop screaming in pain.

Wincing, she rose on shaky legs and started to walk over to the sink for a glass of cool water—

—and suddenly, she heard a crash behind her. 

She froze.

_Shit_.

_He’d found her._

Blake whimpered, barely recognizing as her legs gave out under her. No, no, _no_ —she was trapped, and he was coming close to her, she had to run run _run_ …. She had to run before he found her and her teammates….

_SHIT_.

_Her teammates._

Oh, god, what if he found Yang, and Weiss, and Ruby, and Jaune and Ren and Nora Oscar Qrow—

He would not just kill them—no, he would _torture_ them, rip their guts out and squeeze out their eyeballs; strangle them with their own intestines; sentence tham to a fate worse than _death—_

_He was coming to find her—_

_Filthy, broken, used_ bitch _._

Blake’s eyes snapped open. Oh shit, oh shit, oh _goddamn fucking shit_ —

He was already here—

She couldn’t—

There was no—

Breathe—

Air—

She was stuck—

Cold—

Alone—

No, cold, _too_ cold—

Where was the goddamn air?

Was this dying? Was this it?

Suddenly, she gasped and felt herself bolt back upright—when had she laid down?—panting heavily as air flooded into her lungs—no, fast, too fast too goddamn fast she couldn’t take it couldn’t take the air—

She vaguely became aware of his hands on her arms, pinning her down, and she fought him off with all she could muster, but it was not enough—

She was stuck in the woods with him, and he would take her back with him and make her suffer for leaving in the first place—through her blurry vision, she saw his kneeling figure by her side, and she flinched back violently, ignoring the sickening crack of her head against a tree while she waited for the strike of his sword. Blake heard him speaking to her, and her cat ears flattened against her head as she struggled to ignore the painful threats, but instead she heard—

“You’re okay, it’s okay, you’re safe. We’re in Atlas. Everything is okay. You’re safe…”

What?

Adam was never so calm; he never spoke so gently or softly, so who—

She released a shaky whimper and squeezed her eyes shut, re-opening them to the sight of black hair and a white T-shirt. She blinked a few times to clear her vision, finally recognizing the magenta eyes staring back at her.

_“R-Ren?”_

The boy in question was kneeling next to her, still in his pajamas with an expression of worry on his face. She wanted to ask him what was going on, but she saw—

_“B-Blood—”_ she choked, her lungs squeezing painfully. “Why—where did—shit, I can’t— _I can’t_ —”

Ren reached a hand out to her, but she gasped and slammed herself backward again, so he retracted it. “Blake, I need you to listen to me,” he instructed her softly.

“I—I can’t—can’t _breathe_ —” 

“I know,” he said gently, careful to keep his distance. “But you’re safe, okay? Can you listen to me? I need you to try to breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, and breathe out for eight. In, two, three…” 

Blake shook her head rapidly as she attempted to inhale, managing a shaky breath for all of two seconds before her throat closed off and restricted her air passage once again. 

“I—I can’t—” she gasped. “I—sorry—”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “But I want you to try again. Can you do that for me?”

She whimpered, fingernails digging into each opposite shoulder, but nodded.

“In, two, three, four, hold, two, three—it’s okay, we can start over,” he quickly added as she choked on her breath once more. “We have time, okay? We’re safe. Safe in Atlas.”

It was about ten more minutes before Blake was able to breathe evenly on her own. At that point, she glanced down at herself and gasped in panic when she remembered that she had another problem.

“Why—why is there blood?” she whispered in a panic, worried about what she may have done during her anxiety attack. _Shit, what if he finds out…._ “And w-why does my head hurt so much?”

Ren held up his hands in what was meant to be a placating gesture, but winced when she flinched at the movement. “You…” He cut himself off, choosing his next words carefully. “When I found you, you were clawing at your arms. You also hit your head pretty hard a couple of times—if you didn’t have Aura, I think you’d be unconscious at this point. Actually, on the subject of injuries—” He rose to his feet and retrieved a first aid kit from one of the cupboards, removing bandages and an antiseptic wash. 

“I know you don’t want to be touched,” he began slowly, “but I think this is necessary. Your Aura most likely won’t fully replenish for another few hours.” At her hesitation, he added, “I promise to work fast.”

“Okay,” she finally muttered, her tone a little too quiet. She was relieved that her secret was safe, but still uncomfortable with the idea of him having to patch her up.

True to his word, Ren worked fast. In less than ten minutes, all the cuts had been disinfected and bandaged, and despite her protests that she didn’t need it, he had even given her a small ice pack for her head. However, afterward, instead of putting away the kit, he eyed her left hand suspiciously and pulled out a small tube. “You should probably put this on your hand,” he instructed. 

She took the tube but didn’t open it, furrowing her brow in confusion. “What is it?”

“Burn treatment lotion,” he told her. “It will probably heal within a few hours, but it’s going to hurt until then.”

“Burns?”

“Yes,” he clarified. “Your left hand is burned. Actually, your arms appear to be mildly burned as well, so you should probably spread a little lotion on them, and anywhere else you have burns.” There was a silent question in his expression, but she ignored it in favor of walking over to the common room bathroom.

“Wait—” She turned around to see Ren throwing a bemused stare her way. “Where are you going?”

“You—you said to put it on all areas I have burned,” she whispered as though she were afraid of angering him. “I don’t want to take off my shirt here…”

“Oh. _Oh_. I understand,” he said quickly, his gaze growing worried.

Blake inhaled sharply and disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she emerged with a nearly empty tube of burn cream and handed it back to Ren for him to put away. After an awkward moment of silence, she muttered, so quietly she could barely hear herself, “Thanks.”

Ren looked surprised, but nodded as he put the first aid kit back in its original location. “You’re welcome.” Pause. “Do you…would you like to talk—”

_“No,”_ she breathed, her voice coming out shaky but strong at the same time. Ren gave her a concerned look, but he conceded and let the topic go. The duo walked back over to the table, and Blake took notice of the shattered shards of porcelain and tea stains on the carpet.

“I’m really sorry, I—” she began rambling, but Ren cut her off with a shake of his head.

“It was just an accident,” he told her. “You probably just kept the glass too close to the edge. There’s no harm done.”

She swallowed and shook her head rapidly. “No, but I—”

“It’s okay,” he repeated firmly. 

“But—”

“Blake, it's okay.”

Blake slowly nodded, albeit hesitantly, and allowed Ren to guide her over to the table, careful to give as little physical contact as possible. He helped her sit on one of the chairs and then put another kettle of water on the stove, wiping up the ruined tea while waiting for it to boil. A few minutes later, Ren broke the tense silence.

“You probably shouldn’t go back to sleep,” he told Blake as he tossed the tea-stained napkins in the trash can and sat down across from her. Blake snapped her gaze back to him, her expression hesitant. It was clear she was afraid to speak up. Luckily, he understood the unsaid question.

“You didn’t pass out, but I think you might have a concussion. Do you feel nauseous?” Ren asked her. Blake meekly shook her head, and he nodded. “That’s good, but I’d prefer if you stayed up, if only for my own peace of mind.”

Blake shrugged and looked down at her hands. _Like I even want to fall back asleep,_ she thought to herself grimly, feeling an involuntary shudder pass through her body, pretending not to notice the concerned glance that Ren was shooting her way.

The silence settled over the duo again, and to her surprise, Blake found herself longing for someone to start talking and fill the air with noise. Something to keep her mind away from—away from there….

“Take a deep breath,” Ren murmured, interrupting her musings and causing Blake to realize that she had been on the verge of hyperventilating again. As if sensing her need for a distraction, Ren grabbed the television remote and turned on the common room television, putting on a comedy movie that the two and their teams had enjoyed watching together at Beacon. 

After a few minutes, Ren removed the kettle and poured water for the duo, adding chamomile tea bags in both mugs. They sat together and sipped their tea in silence, watching the sappy rom-com.

The onscreen female protagonist gasped and ran toward her beloved. _“You found me!”_ she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in an overly dramatic fashion. _“You came after me, and you saved me!”_

_“Of course I did,”_ he purred, wrapping his arms around her in return. Blake rolled her eyes at the sheer cheesiness of the characters. Ignoring the rest of the movie, she rose from the couch and made to walk over to the sink, perhaps wash the kettle and leftover dishes from dinner, when—

_“I will_ always _come after you, my darling.”_

It was as though someone had thrown a bucket of darkness back over her. Blake froze and stiffened, chills running down her spine like the gentle caress of him—

“Blake?”

Shit…

_Shit…_

_SHIT—_

“Blake.”

Suddenly she was shaking, her teeth rattling loudly and her fingers numb and tingling, and suddenly, despite the chills, every inch of her was on fire fire fire—

_“Blake.”_

Gasping for breath, her gaze snapped to meet Ren’s calm one. He seemed to have a general idea of what was happening this time.

“In for four,” he reminded her. 

She shook her head violently, her body racking with tremors so hard she could barely stand. “No, no, can’t,” she gasped. She needed her lighter; she wanted to get rid of her skin—no, wait, he couldn't know about that…. “Need to _run_ —”

“You’re safe,” he promised.

“No—I can’t—” she pleaded, tears brimming in her eyes as her stomach rolled. Suddenly, she lurched and slapped a hand over her mouth. Receiving the message, Ren managed to snatch the trash can in record time and place it in front of her just in time for her to lean over and vomit her dinner up. She fell to her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach until her head was pounding and thick yellow bile was the only thing coming back up.

“Can I touch you?” Ren murmured softly, his hand hovering over her back. Wincing, she shook her head, knowing her stomach would probably roll _again_ at any sort of physical contact. 

Ren set the trash can aside and grabbed a glass of water for her, instructing her to drink it in small sips. After a moment of silence, once her breathing and the chattering of her teeth had slowed, he gave her a worried look. 

“Blake…” he whispered as to not scare her off. “What happened tonight?”

_The blood in the snow—_

_The cold on her skin—_

_Pain pain pain—_

Blake shook her head abruptly. “Nothing,” she mumbled. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she scolded herself. _Always dragging other people into your problems. They don’t_ want _to help you; they’re just too nice to tell you that. You deserve to bear the pain alone; you deserve_ more _pain._

Her fingers twitched in her lap, energy coiled in her bones; the urge to destroy bubbling up inside of her. “It’s nothing,” she repeated, her voice as shaky as it was believable.

Ren didn’t look convinced either. “Please,” he asked her, his normal calm facade breaking for a split second—just long enough to allow her to notice how worried he was. “If you don’t want to talk to me, I understand, but please—talk to someone, regardless of who it is.”

She bit her lip. “If I tell you…” she whispered, curling her hands into fists. “If I tell you, can you…not tell? Anyone?”

“As long as you are not in danger, you have my word.”

Blake nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around herself, still shaking from the phantom chills. “It was…a nightmare,” she mumbled, avoiding her friend’s gaze. “I know it’s probably stupid—but it was just…really scary…”

“Can I ask what it was about?” he pressed gently when it became clear that she was done talking.

“The—the day we left Argus,” she whispered, a shudder passing through her body. She didn’t elaborate, and he fell silent, dropping the topic of both the nightmares and her burns. Blake and Yang hadn’t given the others any details about what happened that night—the duo had simply said that Blake was ambushed by a White Fang member, the two fought him and ran, and they didn’t want to talk about it. But given that they had refused to separate from each other since, she wouldn’t be surprised if Ren had figured out that there was more than what they were saying. 

After a few minutes of silence, Ren disposed of the trash bag and washed all the dishes as Blake sat on the floor in silence, the movie long forgotten. Sensing herself starting to sink back into her head, she spoke up. “What time is it?” she asked softly. 

He shot a glance at the clock. “Half past three in the morning. Why?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to pick her words carefully. “I—I know it’s stupid, but I don’t think I can just stay in the room without constantly sinking back into that—mindset…” she mumbled. “I just…I was hoping that it wasn’t too early to go to the briefing room. I just want— _need_ —to get out of here.” _For more reasons than one…._

Ren nodded thoughtfully. “Well, first of all, it’s not stupid. No,” he cut her off, seeing her mouth open in protest. “You had a very bad nightmare and at least two anxiety attacks because of them, not to mention that you injured yourself during the first one and threw up repeatedly during the second. It isn’t stupid. It’s legitimate. Neither of us have anywhere else to be, and if you think a change of scenery will help you stay grounded, then I say we go for it.”

“Even if it means hours of wandering in the dark and silence?”

He nodded and gave her a small smile. “Even if.”

She gave him a shaky sigh and rose to her feet. “So…I guess we get dressed?”

“Yes, that would be a good idea,” he chuckled. “I think we’d get a few stares if we showed up to briefing in our pajamas.”

Blake managed to crack a weak smile and set off for her dorm room. Atlas Academy had set aside two of the smaller towers for lodgings, and unlike at Beacon, one of the towers was used for professional huntsmen and military personnel. Several floors contained halls like the ones Team RWBY and Team JNOR were sharing: a hall that had two bedrooms on either end and a common room between them, a bathroom attached to all three rooms. It had been a huge relief for the two teams to be able to remain so close to one another, and given that there were multiple floors with several similar halls, Blake figured that it wasn’t uncommon for other huntsmen to feel the same way about their comrades. 

She was just glad that the General had given them rooms in this section of the building, instead of one with different types of rooms. 

Keeping them close made it easier for her to remember that they were still alive.


End file.
